The Flowers of War
by The Big Black Panther
Summary: A series of one-shots on the people whose lives were torn apart during the war, and how somehow... They still fell in love.
1. Staying Strong

**A/N: Well, I've been avoiding my Rose/Scorpius murder mystery, Never Simple, because no one is reviewing, and that's what I said I'd do. But I got an idea for a series of one-shots set during the war, focusing on the romances that somehow still managed to flourish. Shall we start with the two we were rooting for ever since she blushed and ran away from him in the second book?**

Ginny stared out the window of the Burrow, watching the snowflakes without really seeing them. It fit her mood, of course, the dreary day that had just dawned. Gray skies, snow that wasn't sticking and was simply turning to slush, and a kind of chilly and sticky feeling to the air- it was all around gloomy.

She wished that she knew where he was- she daren't even think his name, with the taboos and listening ears. She believed with every fiber of her being that if she just knew where he was, then she'd be able to deal with the thought of him wandering along out there without her. She had to believe it.

At least she knew he was alive- if he wasn't, the Death Eaters would have being crowing about it from every street corner. Draco-Fucking-Malfoy would have been dancing a jig atop the Astronomy Tower. The benefit of that would be that she would have the chance to push him off…

Ginny missed him. She really missed him. She missed his slightly crooked glasses and messy hair, and those beautiful green eyes she'd once compared to a toad… Even the thought of seeing him lying there in the hallway with a dwarf on his chest couldn't bring a smile- it was tarnished by the thought of the person who'd been controlling her that year, and how his cronies were tracking her love down.

Yes, love. She hadn't told him yet- maybe she'd never get the chance- but she could tell herself. She was in love with Har- she broke herself off. She wouldn't risk his safety, as paranoid as it was to think they were listening to her thoughts. _But just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean you might not be right,_ she thought fiercely, hugging the blanket tighter about her shoulders. And he depended on her, on all of them, to stay strong.

The fate of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named may fall on his shoulders, but he couldn't possibly fight an army of Death Eaters on his own. That's why Dumbledore's Army was still an unseen but loudly heard force in the halls of Hogwarts.

She stretched wearily, dropping the blanket down onto her bed and stood. It was late enough now her mum would be starting breakfast. And insomnia may have her staring out the windows as dawn broke, but it also had her up early enough to be helpful. Anywhere she could lend a little extra strength, she would.

Because that's what he needed her to do.

Harry stared at the map, at the empty halls of Hogwarts, and felt like his heart might break. It had been a small connection, a tentative one at best, but seeing Ginny's name (and dot) moving around on the map had been something. It had let him know something about how she was.

He was sure she was fine. He glanced at the sun that had barely risen above the horizon, and imagined her tucked snugly in her bed, long red hair spread across her pillow and a serene look on her beautiful face. She would get up in a few hours and go down to a wonderful smelling breakfast her mum had already cooked, laugh at her brothers- what ones of them were there, who knew how many that would be with the Order almost certainly working around the clock- and not think of him once.

He missed her, but it was better this way. He believed that, he honestly did; Voldemort could use her against him, as he had before. And then she'd only been his best friend's gullible little sister… No, he simply could not allow it to be known that he loved… liked… _cared for_ Ginny.

He probably loved her, he mused with a broken sigh. But he didn't have much to compare it to, really. Cho certainly hadn't counted, and the crush he'd had on a girl when he was ten and still went to a Muggle school definitely hadn't either. He might ask Hermione, sometime, but she always seemed to roll her eyes and call him an idiot when he asked her for advice on girls, so it didn't seem likely.

Besides, as much as he wanted it to be, it wasn't really a priority… except when he had the watch in the early morning, and Ron was gone, and he was feeling depressed and downtrodden and in desperate need to see her face…

Okay, so he almost certainly was in love with her.

"Mischief managed," Harry murmured, tapping the map and folding it back into his pocket. Time to stop staring moodily into the forest and try to get something done.


	2. High Tempers

**A/N: Alright, so this is my favorite couple from Harry's generation! I think they're tied with Rose and Scorpius in the long run, but anyway. In my world, they don't ACTUALLY get together until after school, around the time when Harry and Ginny get married, but their seventh year was really the start of it all…**

Parvati glanced around nervously, her wand clutched tightly in her hand. Hogwarts was a dangerous place these days, and she wasn't exactly sneaking through the hallways because she wanted a midnight snack. Dumbledore's Army wasn't meeting that night, in particular, but it was her turn to spend the night in the Room of Requirement, treating who she could.

Admittedly, the majority of the scrapes and bruises that she was healing were just that, scrapes and bruises, but certain members of the Army found themselves unable to resist provoking the Carrows. Including Seamus- she pulled the tapestry aside and paused just inside, a grimace crossing her face. She was certain to have to deal with the idiot again today.

The Indian blew out a sigh and started moving again, her footsteps echoing quietly down the passageway. She got it, honestly. She understood why he couldn't stop himself from speaking out against them, she understood why he had to throw himself in the way of whatever spells he could (to save the first years they were almost certainly intended for), and she _definitely_ understood how necessary the snarky comments were to keeping him sane and preserving what dignity he had when he was writhing on the floor in pain.

But she hated- _hated_- seeing the Irish bloke covered in blood.

She didn't understand why- despite her bubbly and optimistic personality, blood had never bothered her. Actually, most things didn't bother her, despite the jokes Dean often made about mice and bugs and other stuff like that. She may like clothes and boys and acting like a girl, but she was still a Gryffindor and she was a lot stronger than everyone thought.

Back to her point- blood didn't bother her, but seeing Seamus every time he got himself beat up… It bothered her. It was probably just because Seamus, Dean, and Lavender had been her best friends for so long- she was sure she'd be flipping out if Lav ever came to her in the same shape as he did most of the time!

Of course, Lavender was often one of the ones helping her heal people, so she could more than likely deal with it herself (assuming she hadn't loss too much blood and wouldn't make it worse with a failed spell).

Parvati slipped out of the passageway, wincing as she stumbled over the slight lip, the sound resounding through the hallways like a sharp retort. But in the evening, no one was in this part of the castle, and her sneaking was simply paranoia.

She quick-stepped through her three passes and breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the oak door appeared before her. It swung open with the slightest touch, and swung back behind her after she stepped through. It was halfway through the year, just after winter break, and the three or four hammocks were slung up around the room. Twenty or so people were settled around, a few nursing bruised arms or limping on sprained ankles (from tripping on the stairs trying to get away from a Slytherin, perhaps?), but there were a few more serious cases- the unfortunate receivers of a bat bogey hex and a nasty little curse that caused a severe, purple-hued rash that burned when touched with magic.

It would be painful to heal, to say the least.

Hannah bustled over to her in that motherly way the young blonde had, smiling wanly up at her (Parvati was tall, for a girl, and wore heels on top of it). "Didn't run into too much trouble on your way over?"

"Not a lick of it. Let's get started here." She smiled grimly, rolling up the sleeves of her dark red blouse.

Hannah directed her to a group of girls who had pissed off Crabbe and ended up on the end of a curse that left them each with a variety of secondhand burns.

She sat cross-legged next to the first years, smiling soothingly at the smallest of the group, who nursed her small dark hand to her chest and bit back moans of pain whenever the slightest shift in position brushed the raw skin against her shirt.

"Can I see it?" she asked softly, holding out her hand- remarkably close in color to the eleven-year-old's, she noted- and beckoning for her to do the same. The girl sniffled, but obliged, extending the hurt appendage so that Parvati could take her wrist gently, inspecting the burn. It was nasty, looked like maybe it was getting infected, but the only reason she was revolted by the sight was because she wanted to cave in Crabbe's head for causing it.

She held her wand just above the surface of the girl's hand, murmuring the spell under her breath to first cleanse the wound. She felt the kid stiffen as the wave of cool blue light spread like water of the wound, but the brave little imp of a Gryffindor didn't cry out. What followed was immediate relief as Parvati quickly followed it with the spell of healing, and a green band of light spread from the tip of her wand until the whole burn was covered. When it faded, the skin was new and slightly raw, but completely healed.

The child flung herself into Parvati's arms, squealing her thanks at a volume that made her head throb. Parvati shushed her, reminding her that her friends were still in pain. It was always that way, she told herself grimly. No matter how much good you could do, there was still someone else who'd gotten hurt.

An hour later she lounged next to Hannah in one of the hammocks, remarkably having been able to heal everyone who needed it between the two of them. For now, anyway. She'd come in during dinner, and there were still hours to go before curfew- and even curfew wasn't a guarantee to the end of Slytherin cruelty.

"No Neville today?" she asked Hannah, idly inspecting her wand. It was long, elegant, and sleek, with a rosy hue to the wood.

"He's off gallivanting about somewhere with Ginny, painting the halls." She shrugged. "And Lavender and Padma?"

"Well, my darling, bookish twin is probably snug in a broom closet snogging the brains out of Dean, and last time I saw Lav she was headed down to dinner, so I don't know where she went after that." Parvati tucked her wand behind her ear, wondering where Seamus was. It was rare for him to last a full day without irritating at least one person enough to make them attack him.

Cue the large, obnoxious Irishman to come staggering through the door- but no, he wasn't covered in blood. He was carrying a bottle of firewhiskey.

Parvati straightened so abruptly she was sent tumbling to the floor in a heap, and her wand fell out from behind her ear and rolled across the floor. She scrambled up and grabbed it, shoving it through the waistband of her jeans.

Seamus roared with drunken laughter at the sight of the polished young woman lying on the floor, and threw his arm around the shoulders of a Hufflepuff sixth year who happened to be in the vicinity. "Ye know that them Carrows're takin' over every damn par' o' this school?"

His words were slurred, but loud and with a sense of authority. "We kin fight 'em for a while, but erry time we do somethin' they come aftur thuh younger kids, aye? So aftur a bit…" he drew a line across his throat dramatically, then found himself overbalancing as the kid ducked out from under his arm and backed away, a horrified look on his face. He smacked into the wall and leaned there heavily, eyes closing. He looked like he was about to fall asleep right on the spot, but the next moment there was angry pixie of an Indian slapping him across the face.

"Get your shit together, man!" she hissed as he blinked blearily at her, a hand going up to his smarting cheek. He looked more shocked and confused than angry at her, and she felt a brief moment of relief (drunk, he was known to have a remarkably volatile temper, and his barrel-chested and well-muscled frame could easily have left her as yet another patient for Hannah). "Come on!" she grabbed his arm and dragged him over to the door that had just appeared, giving her a place to yell at him and hopefully get him sober out of the eyes of the children.

"Why, Parvati, I dinnut realize ye felt this way abou' meh," he grinned crookedly as she shoved him into the small space. She'd intended for something bigger, but perhaps the Room had recognized her desire to get in his face and poke him in the chest repeatedly.

Not in the mood for his crude and sexist humor, she flicked her wand and his mouth snapped shut magically. "Listen to me now, you great oaf, I don't give a fuck how wasted you are, or how depressed, or how certain that eventually Harry and all the rest of us will die!" Parvati jabbed him in the chest with the tip of her wand, a terrifically furious look on her face that had even Seamus looking at her with respect. "You will not come into this room and scare those poor children and take away their hope! You fucking bastard, hope is all we have left these days! They are hurt, and miserable, and apparently you also want them to be frightened and hopeless! I'll be sure that Neville hears about this, and if he doesn't kill you then I will!"

She had backed him slowly into the corner, and now she stopped, breathing heavily, finger (she'd abandoned her wand at some time during the tirade, she wasn't sure when) pressed roughly into his chest. She'd felt this fire building up in her chest as she ranted at him, but now it was suddenly extinguished. She fumbled for her wand, ungluing his mouth, and muttered the charm that helped alleviate the effects of alcohol.

"Sorry, Parvati," he muttered, not looking her in the eye, and it took her a second to realize why he was starting to smirk. They stood not three inches from each other, and the way he'd looked down, ashamed, had brought to his attention that the top two buttons of her shirt were undone.

She pulled the top of her blouse together and stepped back quickly, scowling. "Pig."

"You're surprisingly attractive, for such a stuck-up girly girl," he smirked, and this time it was him backing her into the corner.

"You're surprisingly not, considering how many girls fawn over you constantly." Total lie.

"Must just be my personality then."

"That sends them running in the opposite direction?" she sniped as she felt her back hit the wall.

"Don't you like anything about me, Parvati?" he smirked, setting his forearms against the wall and pinning her in.

"Not a thing," she managed to whisper, heart beating frantically in her chest. What the hell was he doing?

"That's okay. I don't much care for you and your Divination obsession either." His eyes traveled slowly down again, and she clutched her shirt closed, gulping.

"It's not an obsession," she stated mutinously, finding the single remaining lick of flame. "I just happen to be a very passionate person, unlike you, who never seems to care about anything other than driving the Carrows insane."

A flash of anger crossed his strongly-jawed face, and his blue eyes narrowed as he glared down (though only about two inches) at her. "I help the Army more than you do, Nurse Patil!"

"Sure, by getting yourself beat up and taking our attentions away from the kids who don't have a death wish!" she snapped, finally abandoning her attempts to keep his eyes off of her- he was a pig, and she normally wore low-cut shirts, and he'd probably stared before. She shoved him back and took up the offensive once more. "Stop and think for a second, Seamus! What have you really done? Yes, you throw yourself in front of hexes meant for others, and I know every person you've ever done that for would applaud your bravery, but normally aren't they attempting to hex them because _you_ pissed them off, and hurting others is a better way to hurt you than to actually hurt you? And the last time Neville actually asked you to help him, when he was trying to sneak those two Ravenclaws out of detention, you ended up getting into a duel with that Zabini bloke, left your post, and he ended up having to abandon them there in order to save your arse from getting killed!"

"I…" Seamus trailed off, unable to find a response.

Parvati snorted, shaking her head. "Didn't you wonder why he never asked you again? You're irresponsible and he can't count on you, mate. You may be vocally against them, but you're not _usefully_ against them. Next time when you're drunk, go pass out in the common room."

He watched her storm out, staring blankly at the door as it swung closed behind her. He'd never realized there was an actual reason why she'd been put in Gryffindor, and despite their constant bickering he'd never realized she had a temper, either.

He kind of liked it.


End file.
